There was a sudden burst from the horn.
“Time to sleep,” Yusuf said, getting up.
They returned to their area and headed for their sleeping quarters.
Several wax candles were alight in the room. Some of the youths were undressing, while others had already climbed into bed.
Presently Abu Soraka entered the room. He checked to see if they were all present and everything was in order. Then he set a short ladder up against the wall and put the candles out.
On a stand in a corner a small flame glimmered in an oil dish. The dai went toward it to light his own short taper. Then he stepped quietly to the exit and lifted the curtain carefully so that the flame wouldn’t ignite it. He slipped through the opening, and his footsteps faded down the hallway.
An early morning reveille roused the youths from their sleep. They washed, performed morning prayers, and had breakfast. Then they took their saddles and weapons and hurried outdoors.
In an instant the entire fortress had risen to its feet. The novices went to the horse stable and arranged themselves in two rows alongside their animals, with a sergeant standing at the head of each row. Captain Manuchehr rode in, inspected the unit, and ordered them to mount. Then he had the bridge raised, and, one after the other, they thundered across it and out into the canyon.
They rode past a watchtower and out onto a vast plateau. For the newcomer’s benefit the captain explained the basic commands again. Then he divided the unit into two groups and ordered the groups to ride off in separate directions. First came turns in formation, and then charges, both Turkish and Arab. For the first time in his life, ibn Tahir experienced the sight of a massive assault, and his heart began to pound with pride. Then they dismounted and practiced brandishing swords, throwing snares and spears, and shooting with bow and arrows.
They returned to the castle in time for second prayers. Ibn Tahir was so exhausted he could barely stay upright in his saddle. When they dismounted and returned the horses to their stable, he asked Suleiman, “Do you have military exercises every day?”
Suleiman, who was as fresh and serene as if he’d just returned from a pleasant walk, laughed and replied, “This is just the beginning, friend. Wait until dai Abdul Malik gets hold of you. That’s when it really starts to come at you fast and furious.”
“I’m so hungry I can’t see straight,” ibn Tahir complained. “Can’t you get me something to eat?”
“Be patient. We’re allowed to eat three times a day, no more. If they caught you eating outside of set mealtimes, they’d lash you to the pillar, like you saw happen to that soldier who drank wine.”
Back in their quarters they stowed their weapons, washed, fetched writing implements from the shelves, and went up onto the roof.
A tall, thin man in a winding cloak appeared before them. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes hollow. His gaze was gloomy, and his nose was thin and hooked like a hawk’s beak. His sparse, graying beard reached almost to his chest. His thin, bony fingers clutched at a stack of papers like the claws of a bird of prey. This was dai Ibrahim, the old and venerable missionary and good friend of the supreme commander. To begin, he performed second prayers with the novices. He pronounced the words half-audibly in a dull mutter, but when he came to invoke the Mahdi, his voice boomed wild and hollow, as though he were beating a drum.
Then he began the lesson. He explained Arabic grammar, tediously citing its strict rules, which he illustrated with examples from the Koran. The pencils squeaked obediently across the writing tablets. At most, one of the students would dare now and then to draw an audible breath.
Ibn Tahir found the lesson relaxing. His command of grammar was good, and it was a relief to know that this subject wasn’t going to cause him trouble.
Dai Ibrahim bowed grimly when he had finished. With great dignity he lifted the hem of his roomy cloak in order not to trip on it, then he vanished through the steep passageway downstairs.
A whisper rose up among the novices. They waited a while longer so as not to run into dai Ibrahim, then they rushed out into the courtyard. There they assembled in two rows according to height.
Suleiman said to ibn Tahir, “Now you get to meet dai Abdul Malik. Here’s my advice: grit your teeth and focus your will. One fellow dropped dead during these exercises once. Trust in Allah and in the wisdom of Our Master.”
Yusuf stood at the head of the first row. Somewhere toward the middle was Suleiman, and at the end was ibn Tahir. At the head of the second row was Obeida, and Naim was at its far end.
A gaunt giant stepped before them with an impetuous stride. He had an angular face and a hard, piercing gaze. When he noticed ibn Tahir among the novices, he asked him, “What’s your name, hero?”
“I’m Avani, grandson of Tahir of Sava.”
“Good. I’ve already heard. I hope you prove worthy of your famous grandfather.”
He stepped back several paces and called out, “Footwear off, then over the wall!”
In an instant the sandals dropped from their feet. The novices sprinted toward the ramparts and began scaling the wall. Their hands reached into crevices and apertures and held onto stony prominences.
At the sight of the steep wall ibn Tahir felt his courage fade. He didn’t know how or where to start.
Above him he heard a voice whispering, “Give me your hand.”
He looked up and saw Suleiman, who was holding onto an opening in the wall with one hand while offering the other.
Ibn Tahir took hold of it. With iron strength Suleiman pulled him up.
“There. Now follow me.”
And he did. Suddenly he found himself atop the wall.
The others were already crawling down the other side into an abyss. At the foot of the wall Shah Rud was frothing. Ibn Tahir looked down into it and felt his head spin.
“I’m going to crash,” he said fearfully.
“Stay right behind me,” Suleiman whispered to him. His voice was firm and commanding.
He began his descent. Each time he found a firm foothold, he offered a hand and then a shoulder to ibn Tahir. They worked their way down the wall into the abyss, carefully and with clenched teeth. It seemed an eternity to ibn Tahir before they reached the rocks bounding the river.
Ibn Tahir caught his breath. He looked up horror-struck. The wall rose straight up before him. He couldn’t believe he had scaled it.
Abdul Malik appeared on top of the wall. He planted his feet far apart and called out, “Back to your places!”
They began climbing back up. Ibn Tahir kept close to Suleiman. He followed him foothold by foothold until finally, having traversed the wall’s inner face once again, he felt level ground beneath his feet.
The novices were catching their breath. Ibn Tahir tried to thank Suleiman but was abruptly shrugged off.
They put their sandals on and resumed their places in formation.
“Next time we’ll use a rope,” he whispered, “and that will have to go lightning fast.”
Abdul Malik smiled sarcastically and said, “What was wrong with you today that you didn’t finish first as usual, Suleiman? Feeling a bit lazy, perhaps? Or just a shade short of courage? Or maybe the newcomer seduced you with his example? The two of you were holding onto each other like ticks. Now show him you’re a hero. Step forward and hold your breath.”
Suleiman stepped in front of ibn Tahir and compressed his lips. He looked straight ahead, but with an indeterminate gaze, as if fixed on the far distance. Ibn Tahir grew fearful when he realized that Suleiman had stopped breathing. His face became more and more flushed and his eyes, dull and expressionless, began to widen strangely in their sockets. Ibn Tahir feared for him. He was, after all, at fault for this cruel punishment befalling his companion.